Catch Your Breath Page 24

  Screw it. Her dress would have to do. She wasn’t good at auditioning repeatedly. Billie had hired her, so she must’ve done something right.

  She checked the time, and a stab of panic hit her. She had to hurry and pray for no traffic on her drive into downtown. Shoving her keys into her clutch purse, she rushed out the door.

  Forty minutes later, she stood in line to order coffee and kept looking for Piper. She ordered a grande with a double shot. As much as she enjoyed having Jimmy spend the night, she needed an extra boost of caffeine to keep going, and it was only four in the afternoon. It was probably good that she’d told Jimmy she had work to do tonight.

  Piper strode through the door wearing expensive jeans and a glittery top. Not quite what Moira would consider a date outfit. The barista handed her a cup and she went to join Piper.

  “I thought you said dress for a date.”

  “I did.”

  Moira pointed at Piper’s jeans.

  “You need to be ready for a date because I’m giving you my client for the night.”

  Moira’s heart leaped into her throat and she couldn’t swallow. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She wasn’t ready for this, a date where a man might want her to have sex. She took a gulp of hot coffee hoping it would dissolve the lump so she could talk. The scalding her tongue received earned her a few seconds to think as Piper laughed at her.

  After Piper ordered, Moira regained her ability to form words. “What do you mean, date?”

  Piper shrugged. “I talked to Billie and told her I thought Mr. Lee would be a good initiation into the business.”

  Moira walked slowly to a table and sat, waiting for Piper to get her coffee and offer an explanation. In the meantime, Moira focused on how to respond. Piper was being generous to give up a paying job, but Moira hadn’t quite thought this through. She’d believed she had time to develop a plan. She already knew the type of clients the service catered to; Moira just knew them in a different setting. For her, the escorts were more interesting. She wanted to know what made them take this job.

  Piper sauntered over. Long legs leading out from swaying hips. She was the kind of woman who had men stopping to look at her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and pulled out the chair across from Moira.

  “So this date . . .” Moira started.

  “Mr. Lee has been a client of mine since I started. He’s a good guy. He’s old and wants a beautiful woman on his arm for a fancy dinner.”

  “Just dinner? That’s it?”

  “Yeah. I like the old guy. If you can make it through a date with him, you’ll ace Friday night. The men at the party will be younger and smoother. Mr. Lee will let us know if you come across as plastic.”

  “When is this date supposed to happen?”

  Piper glanced at her watch. “About an hour. We’ll walk over to the office, and Mr. Lee will pick you up there.”

  “Won’t he be mad if he’s expecting you?”

  Piper crinkled her nose. “He’s my regular, but he sometimes gets another girl if I’m busy. He’ll be okay with it, unless you screw it up.”

  “Okay.” Moira sipped her coffee. She could do this. Dinner was no big deal. “Do you like working for Billie?”

  “Yeah. She’s fair and she runs a clean operation. I mean, stuff happens, but Billie never forces you to take a date with a guy you don’t like, and she vets the guys pretty well.”

  Moira didn’t want the sales pitch; she wanted the nitty-gritty. “What’s the weirdest date you’ve ever been on?”

  “Shoot. That’s a pretty long list.” Piper narrowed her eyes and looked up. “Lots of kinky weird stuff, but the weirdest had to be a woman who wanted me to take a guy out and spend the night at a hotel with him. She paid me five grand to keep him happy for the night.”

  “What do you mean, some woman? I thought all dates came through Billie.” An idea caught in the back of Moira’s brain, like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch. She was on to something.

  “This was after a party Billie had sent us to. A guy was hitting on me pretty hard. When he went to refresh our drinks, this woman talked to me. She had twenty-five hundred on her, with the promise that if I could convince this guy to take me to a hotel, she’d meet me the following morning with the rest.”

  “Wouldn’t Billie get mad about that?”

  Piper shrugged. “Some girls work for more than one service, so I didn’t see the problem.”

  “How did you know the woman would show?”

  “I didn’t, but I was late with rent, and the twenty-five hundred would make me straight. I wanted the rest, but if I didn’t get it, no big deal. But I did get it. First thing the following morning, the front desk called and let me know I had an envelope waiting for me. Some people are into weird stuff. I figured she was setting her husband up to either get off because things weren’t good in the bedroom or get caught because he was a cheater. I half expected someone to be taking pictures while we were fucking.”

  Moira almost choked on her coffee. Piper talked about being a prostitute in a regular conversation as if it wasn’t illegal and no one would think anything about it. Moira glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

  “Chill out. You don’t have to screw a client if you don’t want. But if you do, a bit of advice. Don’t expect earth-shattering orgasms. Think like a porn star. You’re there as a tool to get them off. Anything you get is bonus.” She finished her coffee and tossed the cup.

  Moira had had some lousy, selfish lovers, but she always held out hope that things would improve. She supposed if she viewed it as a business transaction, the disappointment would be kept at bay. Her mind wandered briefly to Jimmy. After the way he’d handled her last night, she could never view him as a simple transaction. And she’d come to expect an excellent roll in the hay.

  Jimmy’s intensity made her shudder. How would he react if he found out about this date? Would he accept it as part of her work, much like being James Buchanan was part of his?

  “What are you thinking?”

  “About a guy I’m seeing. How he would react if he knew I was doing this.”

  “There is nothing to be ashamed of. We’re providing a service. Would you be ashamed to be a cook or waitress who serves food to a man who can’t cook? Of course not. These men don’t have time to play the field and the games that go along with dating. They just want a woman on their arms when they go out.” Piper tilted her head to signal it was time to go. “Besides, the boyfriend will feel like a god after he makes you come because a client didn’t.”

  Moira widened her eyes at Piper’s comment. The woman talked much too loud in a public place, which was saying something coming from Moira.

  “Shoot, it’s a good thing Mr. Lee will be your first. You blush much too easily.” Piper led the way out of the coffee shop.

  They walked briskly down the street, dodging pedestrians who were leaving work. Revolving doors on each office building spun, spilling businessmen into the street. Everyone talked on phones or into Bluetooths. The flow of bodies reminded her exactly why she preferred to work from the comfort of her apartment. She might never have the income these people had, but she’d never have the stress either.

  At the next corner, Piper stopped and pulled out her phone. “You don’t need to go up to the office unless you want to. You can shoot Billie a text from the door when Mr. Lee shows up. He’ll have a driver who will open the door for you.”

  “How will I know it’s him?”

  “It’ll be a limo.” She glanced down the block. “In fact, that might be him now.” She typed quickly on her phone. When it buzzed back, she said, “Yep, that’s him. Go forth and have fun. When you get back, it’ll be early enough that Billie will still be here and she’ll pay you.”

  Moira turned to go but asked, “Why are you giving up your work? Don’t you need the money?”

  Piper lifted one shoulder. “I’m okay. I think everyone needs a break, a hand up. Pay it forward kind of thing. See
you tomorrow night.”

  “Thanks.” Moira hustled down the block as quickly as her heels would allow. When she stopped in front of the building, the driver standing at the limo nodded to her and then stepped back to open the door.

  Moira walked carefully over, not quite sure what to expect. What she saw was a bit of a shock. When Piper had said Mr. Lee was an old guy, Moira figured she was talking about a man in his fifties. Mr. Lee had to be pushing seventy. His fluffy gray and white hair ruffled in the breeze the open door let in.

  “Mr. Lee?” she said in the sweetest voice she knew how to project.

  “Get in, girl. We have a reservation.”

  She started a little at his sharp tone, but she slid into the limo. The leather cooled her bare skin, which was warm from both the weather and the quick walk. “Hi, Mr. Lee, I’m Moira. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He eyed her up and down and nodded. “You got a brain in that head?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir. I ain’t your daddy.”

  She smiled at his frankness.

  “Pretty smile. Did you go to college?”

  “Yes, s—to study journalism.” She didn’t feel the need to lie. She figured the closer she came to the truth, the easier it would be.

  The limo pulled out into traffic, and she relaxed against the seat a little. Mr. Lee appeared to be a harmless old man, if a bit on the cranky side.

  “We’re going to a steakhouse for dinner. Do you have any special requirements?”

  He sneered the question, so she knew her answer had better be no, so she shook her head.

  “I don’t abide by people who refuse to eat food, all vegetables or no bread or tofu crap. I never understood why people can’t just eat.”

  “Well, studies have shown that a balanced diet is healthy. Too much of anything isn’t good. Moderation is what most people haven’t figured out, which is why obesity is an epidemic in American society.”

  Mr. Lee snorted. “People are just plain lazy.”

  “I can’t argue.”

  Three hours later, the limo pulled up to the curb in front of Billie’s office again. Moira’s stomach was full and her cheeks were sore from smiling. She actually enjoyed her dinner with Mr. Lee. Of course he wasn’t the type of man she would ever think to date for real, but she would’ve spent that time with him for free, and yet she was getting paid for it.

  She went up to see Billie and collect her money. As she peered down the hall, she noticed a couple of girls chatting over coffee, and as much as she wanted to pump them for information, her body was too tired and her brain too busy. She’d thought her story was going to be about these filthy married men who cheated on their wives with hookers, but it was so much more.

  Lisa called out as Moira headed toward Billie’s office. “Moira, I have your pay here.”

  Moira pulled up short and doubled back. Man, her feet were killing her in these shoes. “Thanks, Lisa.”

  She didn’t want to be tacky and open the envelope in front of her, so Moira stepped back onto the elevator. The thought of walking back to her car made her cringe, but the prospect of walking down the street barefoot wasn’t any more appealing. The route back to her car took twice as long because of her slow pace, but it allowed her to think about something Piper had said.

  We’re providing a service.

  Tonight, with Mr. Lee, she believed that. If she hadn’t gone on a date with him, he probably would’ve spent the evening alone. Didn’t everyone deserve to have company and an enjoyable evening out? So many people were lonely, and Mr. Lee simply had the means to buy some company.

  Was this how prostitutes convinced themselves that what they were doing was okay? She arrived at her car and sighed as she sat behind the wheel. Driving through the city to get home, Moira let the ideas turn over in her head. The more she thought, the more she realized this story had the makings of something really great, if she could just find the right angle, the right focus. If she did the right legwork, she could create a series of articles. One would focus on the girls working as escorts, another on the men who hired them, and then the third, Jimmy’s case. A featured series would definitely get her name recognized. With that on her résumé, she’d be able to sell articles almost anywhere.

  She pulled up next to her apartment still in a daze trying to figure out the next move for her story. Her feet screamed as she walked into the building. What she wouldn’t do to have an elevator right now. Instead, she took off her shoes and trudged up the stairs. As she rounded the landing, the sight before her made her heart skip a beat. Jimmy sat leaning against her door, looking as beat as she felt.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  “What are you doing here? I told you I had a work thing.” The not complete truth tugged at her.

  “I wanted to see you.” Jimmy’s gaze ran the length of her. “You look amazing. No shoes?”

  She dangled the shoes from her fingers. “My feet are killing me. Too many hours in these damn things.”

  He levered himself against the door and stood. “How about a massage?”

  She thought of where a foot massage would lead and couldn’t withhold the hum in her throat. He took the keys from her and opened the door.

  Jimmy pushed the door open into the living room, and when Moira walked past him, he grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss. He meant for it to be a quick hello kiss, but his tongue had other ideas. Once he tasted a little of her, he immediately wanted more.

  But tonight he had a mission. He needed to talk to her about the story she was working on. So with his hands on her hips, he pushed her away from him. “Why don’t you go take a quick shower? I’ll grab us a couple of beers and find something on TV.”

  “Want to join me?”

  He sighed. If he got in the shower with her, he’d never get to the damn conversation. “Not tonight.” He kissed her nose and turned her body toward the bathroom.

  In the tiny kitchen, he grabbed the beer and a bag of chips and took them to the living room. Her apartment was blessedly quiet. One of his favorite things about spending time at her place—besides being with Moira—was the quiet. He’d lived with his dad for so long, he’d forgotten how quiet a home could be.

  With the sound of the water running in the other room, he flicked on the TV and flipped through channels looking for something Moira would like. He settled on some old black-and-white movie on AMC.

  He settled into the corner of the couch and drank his beer. Moments later, the water turned off, and he sincerely hoped Moira would return wearing something more than the short little robe she favored. When the bathroom door opened, steam billowed out and she rounded the corner wearing shorts and a tank top.

  Thank God.

  Her face scrubbed clean of all makeup made her look even younger. She smiled and sat near the center of the couch, stretching her legs to set her feet on his lap. As if he would forget offering a foot massage, she wiggled her toes to get his attention. He took another swig of beer and then touched the cold bottle to the arch of her foot to mess with her.

  She jerked her foot away with a yelp. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “Couldn’t help it.” He put his bottle down and began to rub her feet.

  She leaned back, closed her eyes, and sighed. “That feels so damn good. I think every woman who has to wear heels should have a personal masseur waiting when they get home.”

  “I can be your personal masseur.” The words slipped out, and then he thought about the implications. Was he willing to be here every day?

  Moira reached over and grabbed her bottle of beer. “You never told me why you’re here.”

  “I need to talk to you about the story you’re working on.”

  “I thought we agreed talk of work was off limits.”

  She started to tug her feet away, but he held fast to her ankle. He rubbed his thumb down the arch of her foot, and a look of pleasure stole across her face.

  “My boss t
hinks I’ve fed you some information that will interfere with our investigation.”

  “You haven’t. In fact, you’ve been pretty damn tight-lipped since early on, when you weren’t even sure if it was going to be a case.” She drank from her bottle.

  “I need to know what this other story is that you’re working on. When we went to the carnival, you said you had me to thank for it. You’re doing a piece on the Viagra Triangle. What exactly are you doing?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Tension tightened his shoulders. Why couldn’t she make this easier ? Moira normally talked nonstop. The one time he needed her to talk, she decided to clam up. “Why?”

  “I have a whole host of reasons. The first being that you’ll be pissed off and I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good foot massage.” She said it with a smile as if she could lighten the conversation.

  “How about I keep massaging even if I get pissed off? I need to know.”

  This time she did pull her feet away and stood. “You don’t need to know. You want to know. Why?”

  “I just told you.”

  “And I told you my story isn’t part of your investigation. Why can’t you trust me?”

  Why couldn’t he trust her? He had no easy answer. “You’re a reporter.”

  “So? Do you treat every reporter that comes along this way? Do you go to the newspaper and grill the journalists to see what they’re working on? No, of course not. But because you know me, you want information. Why?”

  “I have to know with certainty that your story will not clash with what I’m working on.”

  “How about you tell me all about your case and I’ll verify that we won’t clash?”

  The frustration grew and he stood. “What’s the big fucking deal about telling me about the story, Moira? Since when do you keep anything a secret?”

  “I shouldn’t have to justify my work or my decision not to share that work.” She paused, staring at him. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” She crossed her arms, bracing for a fight.